I don't want to be here. Every cell in my body is itching, screaming at me to run out, to get away, while I still have a little dignity and self-respect.
Melodramatic, sure. But honestly, out of the time spent in this house, 50% involves missing my dog to the point of distraction, 30% involves arguing with various family members, and 10% involves missing my friends and doing not much else.
Regarding said puppy: the emptiness is literally visible--no furry friend on my floor, no matter how many rooms I search--and metaphorically crushing.
My parents seem to be out to erode my hard-won self-respect, and my sister's, too.
This is the crushing-loneliness stage. It'll pass.
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